


for of all plants that have been written of not any are more unlike the rose

by bazzystar



Series: The Brooklyn Avengers [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Birthday, Garden Verse, M/M, rose of jericho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazzystar/pseuds/bazzystar
Summary: It's Bucky's 100th birthday.





	

He forgot, is the sad thing. 

He forgets a lot of things, still. It's probably written down somewhere in one of his notebooks, tucked in a margin, but there are so many of them, and he really only rereads the ones about Steve. 

He doesn't like to read the ones about himself.

He opens his eyes on March tenth and it's just another day. A Friday, he thinks, although he's not sure. He loses days here and there, especially when the weather's nice and he can spend the day outside, just walking. Just looking at the world, being in it. It's so warm this year, this time. They sleep with the window open.

He reaches for Steve and finds only empty space, the sheets cool with his absence. He looks for the clock and sees it's barely nine. Steve never gets up this early if he doesn't have to. He sits up. 

"Steve?"

He pads out into the living room, pulling a shirt over his head, and when he looks up Steve is leaning against the kitchen doorframe. 

There's a banner above the door. 

It says HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCK. 

He opens his mouth, closes it again. His hand does something fluttery at his side.

Steve comes to him, puts a hand on his cheek and kisses him.

"You forgot," he says quietly. Bucky nods. 

"Happens to the best of us."

He smiles, that shy half-smile he used to give when he'd show Bucky his sketches. 

"I bought - I got stuff to make a cake. I think I got everything. Sam helped."

He strokes Bucky's hair back behind his ear. "Although you probably don't want me to be the one who makes it."

Bucky smiles, nestling into the warmth of his hand, moving closer to him. "So you want me to bake you a cake. On my birthday."

"I do," Steve murmurs, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Happy birthday."

"We're gonna have to go back to the store," he says, fitting his chin into the hollow of Steve's shoulder and slipping his arms around him. Steve laughs, low and rumbly against him. 

"I got those fancy sprinkles," he says into Bucky's hair. "The ones that look like little pearls."

"Did you get cocoa powder, though?"

"I didn't," he admits, stepping back to look at him. "Shit."

Bucky laughs. 

"Stay here for a sec."

Steve disappears back into the kitchen. 

He stands there in the sunlight. He thinks,  _I am a hundred years old._

He thinks,  _I am twenty-nine years old._

Steve comes back in carrying something cupped in his hands. It looks like a ball of twigs.

"Is that a ball of twigs?"

"Kind of."

Bucky steps toward him.

"It's called a Jericho rose," Steve says. 

"Aw, Stevie. I can't believe I've had the garden all this time and I haven't been able to teach you what a rose looks like."

Steve laughs. "You jerk. Listen."

He moves over to the coffee table and sets the ball of twigs in a shallow dish. 

"Is that a bowl of dirt?"

"Bucky," Steve says. "Come here."

He sits down on the floor next to the coffee table and motions for him. Bucky goes to him, sits in the V of his legs and hooks one arm around his back. He looks at the ball of twigs.

Steve picks up the glass of water that's sitting on the table and pours about half of it over the ball of twigs. Bucky leans his head back against his chest.

"It's a desert plant," Steve says against his neck. "They can live without water. They curl up into these little dry balls, protect their hearts, and they wait for water. They can wait years and years. They become tumbleweeds, basically, they just blow around the desert, around the world, until they find somewhere it's safe for them to wake up. And then they flower."

Bucky stares at the plant. His vision is suddenly blurry, his throat tight. As he watches, one of the plant's dry tendrils lifts a fraction of an inch. 

A sound escapes him, not quite a sob, a sound like  _oh_ , and when he blinks again the tears spill down his face. Steve moves to look at him, his eyes full of worry. 

"Buck, I'm sorry-" he says, shifting onto his knees, putting his hands on Bucky's face. "I'm sorry, I thought-"

Bucky claps his hands over Steve's and pulls them toward his chest, shaking his head. 

"I love it," he says, wiping at his face with his forearm, trying not to let go of Steve. "It's - it's perfect."

Steve looks at him hard, searching, and leans in, pressing his forehead against Bucky's. 

"You're perfect," he whispers.

Bucky closes his eyes and feels his heart beat.  _They can wait years and years until it's safe for them to wake up._

"I love you, Steve Rogers," he says, opening his eyes to meet that steady blue gaze. 

"I love you, Buck," Steve says. "Forever."

_And then they flower._

**Author's Note:**

> my favorite boy, my idiot assassin boyfriend, my good-hearted angel, my jericho rose. happy birthday, bucky barnes, and many happy returns.


End file.
